


A Sticky Situation

by Lady_Phenyx



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blowjobs, Bondage, Chair Sex, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Flexibility, M/M, Rimming, Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Trust, eroginous zones, multiple rounds, safe words, tape bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Phenyx/pseuds/Lady_Phenyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme de-anon. Prompt: America hasn't seen England in weeks. So he flies to London and tracks him down, finding him at Buckingham Palace/Number 10/some parliament building. England is stressed and irritable and refuses to give him time of day. So America gets a roll of sticky/masking tape and binds him with it, and then proceeds to ravish him senseless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“But _Iggy~_...” America pleaded, bringing out his last, most potent weapon – the puppy eyes. “We haven’t seen each other for weeeeeks, and I even sneaked out to come see you, and you’ve been working too hard lately, we both need a break.” He draped himself over the frazzled England’s back, nearly causing the wheeled chair to roll into the desk. “Do you know how hard it is to get into the palace anymore? Or how long it took me to find you here, I mean, I checked everywhere before I looked here, you hardly ever use this office.”

He leaned down and nuzzled England’s neck, usually a quick and easy bet for getting the island nation flustered and into his way of thinking. Today, though, England simply high-fived America’s face until he backed off. 

“And _I’m_ telling _you_ I need to get this done. Now go play or something until later, when I’ve finished,” England demanded, pointing toward the door in his best Imperial manner. 

Pouting, America left the room, wandering along the halls of Buckingham Palace. He’d only stretched the truth a little – it wasn’t that hard to get into the palace, not if you were a nation, especially not if you were a nation known to be dating the personification of The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Actually, in the second case, you had staff and various dignitaries pointing the way to where your boyfriend was. America stopped to look out a window, still pouting – though he’d never admit it, heroes don’t pout after all. 

Normally America couldn’t read the atmosphere, but that was more because he didn’t feel like bothering. When it came to England, he’d started paying attention. After all, his boyfriend had a couple thousand years of practice at hiding what he was really feeling, reading the atmosphere was practically a requirement for dating England. Suddenly America remembered the look he’d gotten at the paperwork England had been working on, how England’s usual smooth, flowing cursive had been replaced by harsh strokes and sharp edges – one of the little signs England gave when he was really, really stressed. And England hadn’t called him any names or yelled at him, America suddenly realized. Not even _idiot_ or one of the million British words he had that meant the same thing, which were practically pet names when England was cranky. And he’d used his Imperial voice, the one he only used when he was really, really tense or upset. This was _bad._

Turning sharply from the window, America’s foot caught on a box he hadn’t noticed and he tripped, sprawling across the hallway. He barely bit back the curse that rose – last time England caught him cursing in Buckingham Palace it’d been an hour long lecture on propriety and no sex for the entire visit – and sat up, glaring at the box. Something hit his hand, and he glanced down at the roll of tape settling on the floor. He picked up the tape to get a closer look at it, reading the label. Vet Wrap, huh? He unrolled a little of it, playing with the stretchy, slightly sticky tape. Slowly a mischievous, partially evil grin spread across his face as he looked across the hall and all the tape that had spilled out of the forgotten box. 

His England needed to relax – and suddenly, America had an IDEA.

 

 

England snarled at the paper in front of him. He hadn’t lied to America, he needed to get this done…just like he’d needed to get the set before that, and the one before that, and bloody hell what were the buggering twats thinking, were they doing such a cock-up on their jobs that he need to do all their work too? Every single excuse they’d given him was a load of codswallop! Fucking tossers, all of them! 

As if that weren’t enough, they’d had the unmitigated gall to call him – at six thirty in the bloody morning, mind you – to fix a point of order that had nearly gone to Parliament with improper wording that changed its entire meaning, which meant not only rewriting the point of order but ensuring the corrected copy was distributed to the proper Parliament members, and the original gotten rid of, and then there was the corgi who had decided it was playtime, leading to a chase through Buckingham to retrieve the paperwork, and then the reports to redo...he squinted at the paper again and, resigned, reached for the reading glasses on his desk – either Tommy’s writing was getting harder to read with each report, or he was getting old. 

No, it was definitely Tommy’s handwriting, he decided, the scrawl was almost some sort of code. Perhaps they should use someone like Tommy in the next war rather than waste time coming up with new codes… 

Tommy meant well, he reminded himself, and he was trying…but unfortunately what he was trying was England’s patience. This was the third report the boy had sent up that England found himself redoing from scratch.

England growled and fought the urge to sweep everything off the desk, go find America, and…he wasn’t quite sure what, but it would likely result in a lecture from the Queen on Behavior Unbecoming In A Mature Nation. 

The door to his office opened, and he snarled automatically at it. He didn’t stop when he saw it was America, if anything his scowl worsened. 

“I thought I told you to go play,” he snapped, irritated when America only grinned further. 

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, Iggy. I brought you a present!” England pulled off his glasses (unknowingly disappointing America, who rather enjoyed their rare appearance), buried his face in his hands and groaned at America’s perky tone. 

“America, if I let you do whatever cobblers you’ve come up with, will you _go away_ and let me finish this?” America cocked his head to the side and looked at England for a few seconds, rather like an overgrown puppy.

“You use weird words, Iggy. Anyway, you’re gonna love it! And yes, if you still want me to ‘go away’ afterwards I will. But I betcha won’t,” the last in a singsong that made England roll his eyes involuntarily. “Close your eyes, k? And don’t open them ‘til I say.” England huffed out an irritated breath, but closed his eyes anyway, bracing himself. The sooner he did, the sooner America would be done and he could get his bloody wo…what the hell was America doing to his arm?

England’s eyes shot open at the sensation of something wrapping around his arm over his suit jacket and he jerked away, staring in open-mouthed shock as America finished taping his arm to the chair. With a startled curse he tried to struggle free as America straddled his lap to pin his legs down and, using one hand to pin England’s wrist, bound England’s other arm to the chair.

“What the bloody hell, America! Just what do you think you’re doing, you tosser! Un…un- _tape_ me right this…mmmph!” America’s hands dove into England’s hair, gripping soft strands tightly and holding him in place as he plundered England’s mouth, swallowing the startled little sounds England made, twisting his tongue around England’s. England felt his breath catch as America kissed him, hard and hungry as though he wanted to devour England in greedy little bites, effectively stopping his rant. Coherence wasn’t a priority when it felt like your brain was suffering a nuclear meltdown.

America pulled back, licking his lips, and noted with pride the slightly blurred look to England’s eyes and pinked cheeks.

“Hey England, I told you not to open your eyes until I said to open them. I should punish you for not listening to me, shouldn’t I?”


	2. Chapter 2

England planted his feet on the floor and shoved, sending his chair flying backward into the wall. He glowered at America and took a deep breath before speaking.

“America, I have to work. Just what do you think you’re doing?” he said slowly, spacing each word out as if talking to a rather slow child. America hesitated, then considered. England _said_ he wanted untied and to get back to work, but…he was flushed, and the grip he had on the chair arms was likely going to leave dents. In England-speak, that meant _“I’m saying no because I have to do my duty, but I want to say yes, so get over here,”_ which was different from _“I’m saying no because I have to do my duty, but once I’m done I’m shagging you into next week,”_ which was always fun (work frustration = dominant, aggressive England = sexy fun times), and was similar to but different from the dreaded _“I’m saying no and I mean no”_. America was rather proud for being able to read the three, really.

Moving with the speed he usually only employs when there’s an emergency – like cleaning before a surprise boss visit – America slammed his hands against the wall on either side of England, boxing him in.

“I…I don’t know what you’re planning, but I don’t like it!” England declared, flushing and deliberately not looking at America, ignoring the part of his body that declared it did indeed like it.

America grinned and swooped in to lick a drop of sweat off England’s neck. England tried unsuccessfully to bite back a moan.

“Oh, trust me, you will,” he almost purred, “You remember your safe word, Iggy?”

England bit his lip and looked away again, but gave a shaky nod as America pulled back to study his partner. England was flushed, breathing just a little hard, and America bit his lip as he tried to figure out what to do next. Well, he wanted England tense and worked up, but fun worked up not stress worked up, and he wanted him to relax eventually, so…

America cupped England’s face in his hands gently, burying his face in England’s hair and inhaling deeply. He felt England’s face flush harder as he sprinkled kisses over it. Pausing, he let his breath wash over England’s eyebrow before his mouth closed over it. 

England keened, the wanton sound filling the office as America ran his tongue over the sensitive brow, teasing and sucking until England was incoherent. America pulled back and licked his lips, deciding he needed to do that when England was tied up more often, since he couldn’t retaliate by teasing Nantucket like he usually did when America went for his brows. Unable to resist, he took another taste before taking mercy on the shuddering nation under him.

He could only stare at first– England had no idea just how sexy he looked when he was slumped in the chair like that, breathing hard and flushing a bright red.

On his part, England wasn’t sure to be ecstatic he admitted to America how sensitive his brows were or hate the fact. Right now, his mind had hazed over and it was hard to think of anything through the fog of pleasure. He tugged on the tape again, feeling a little thrill as it held firmly in place. 

“Okays then Iggy, naked time!” America chirped, face lighting up with eagerness. Feeling a tug on his tie, he leaned back in the chair, looking at America through hooded eyes as the other pulled his tie off, tossing it in the general direction of the coat rack. 

Still obviously concentrating, America unbuttoned England’s shirt, tongue sticking out slightly as he undid the first button.

“Button One. Ohh, look, I found skin!” America laughed, pressing a kiss to the hollow of England’s neck, smirking as England jerked and sucked in a big gasp of air. “Button Two! Oooh, look, more skin,” he commented, kissing again as the vee widened with each opened button. He kept up his commentary as he numbered off each button down England’s shirt, licking a trail down the vee of exposed skin, relishing England’s gasp and quick jerk when he did.

America stood to press another kiss to England’s mouth once he’d undone the shirt, jerking back in surprise at the sharp nip. He pressed a hand to his sore lower lip and bit back a laugh as England licked his own, green eyes as smug as a cat’s. He’d forgotten that England wasn’t passive – you could play with the kitty, but had to watch out when he got excited. Smirking himself, he reached for the tape.

America fumbled behind himself for the tape, not quite sure where he’d left it. He turned away from England to look – there, he’d left it on the desk – and nearly toppled onto England as he slid down enough in his chair to kick up a leg and wrap it around America’s waist, yanking him close and throwing America off balance. 

He caught himself on the wall and looked down at England, who smirked. 

“Unless you’re going to put that mouth to good use, lad, you’d best close it.”

America’s mouth snapped closed. Damn, he’d forgotten just how flexible England could be. 

“You’re bendy for an old man,” America quipped, then winced as a heel dug into his kidney.

England tilted his head back and raised an eloquent eyebrow.

“Were you planning something, America?” Oh god, England’s _“If you’ve got it, bring it_ ” voice, the one that lead to good times. America sucked in a breath and felt himself go hard, but smirked and let his voice slide into his Southwest accent, the one he knew England liked but would never admit to. 

“Well there darlin’, I was thinkin’ you were in need of a good ravishing,” he drawled. England tilted his head to the side, looking up at America out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh really?” England taunted, arching his back to press against the obviously-enjoying-it America. “Doesn’t seem like you’re off to a very good start on that.”

America choked and narrowed his eyes. Oh, two could play this game – and he wasn’t the one taped to a chair.

“I’m just gettin’ started, darlin’.” America nipped at the cord of England’s neck, feeling him shiver all the way down to his toes. “I’m gonna ravish you until you can’t move.”

Flushed hard, eyes narrowed and dark and so very green, England smirked and tossed out his challenge. “ _Prove it._ ”

America laughed and pulled England’s leg from around his waist, forcing him to lower it with his superior strength. He knelt down between England’s spread legs, keeping them in place with a hand on each thigh effortlessly as England tried to close them. 

He tried to undo England’s pants with his teeth, the way England had his (only once, but that had been a _GOOD_ night), and scowled at the button when it wouldn’t cooperate. America felt England holding back laughter (well, at least he wasn’t openly laughing) and mouthed England through his trousers.

That stopped the laughter as England gasped softly. America rubbed his cheek on England’s thigh and grinned as he undid England’s trousers.

“I’m gonna make you scream my name, Iggy,” America promised. England choked out a laugh.

“You can’t make me,” he declared, which they both knew was bratty sub England for _“Make me”_. America didn’t bother hiding his glee as his unzipped England’s trousers. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

Suddenly remembering England’s shoes – he couldn’t take England’s pants off with those in the way – America slid his hand down England’s leg, laying a kiss on one clothed ankle before tugging off the dress shoe and tossing it behind him, not caring where it landed. 

America pulled up England’s leg, resting England’s ankle on his shoulder as his hands skimmed up under the trouser leg to expose sock and garters. He nosed at the strap before licking the small patch of skin between sock and garter, holding back the teasing that sprang to mind when he saw them. He risked a glance at England’s face, noting the redness and teeth biting into lip, and grinned. 

 

The sock garter gave him a moment of trouble but as soon as it gave it went the way of the shoe. His fingers curled around the top of the sock as he drew it down England’s leg, grinning and nipping at England’s ankle, making the older nation yelp. 

Switching back to his earlier teasing mood, America kissed England’s foot, licking along his littlest toe, dragging his tongue along where toes and foot met, sucking the largest into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before sucking hard and letting it go with a soft pop.

America squeezed the slender foot and lowered it to the floor as England groaned raggedly, reaching for England’s other leg.

England glared down at him, though the effect was slightly ruined by the bright flush and ragged breathing.

“For the love of…get on with it! I swear…if you keep going…at this snail’s pace…I won’t be res…responsible for what…I do to you …when I… _ah!_ …when I get loose!” England threatened, statement interrupted by gasps as America teased his way through removing the other sock, back arching as America rubbed his cheek against his thigh, so close to where he wanted him yet so far.

A thrill went down America’s spine at the thickened desire in England’s voice, and he debated. His own erection, trapped in trousers and pants, made its vote perfectly clear. Time to stop teasing.


	3. Chapter 3

America lifted England’s hips off the chair with one hand as he yanked down trousers and boxers in one swift motion with the other. They went the way of the shoes and socks as America changed his grip, effortlessly holding England’s hips to the chair while he nuzzled the line of hair leading down to the erection begging for attention between England’s thighs before tracing it with his tongue. He tugged on the hair gently, grinning as England bit his lip and turned away, determined to bite back as many of the pretty little noises he made as possible, the ones that made America almost forget about teasing, made him want to throw England over his desk and fuck him until he screamed. _All in good time,_ he reminded his impatient cock, which was very much in favor of doing that right now.

Grinning, he slowly and deliberately licked his lips and made sure England saw him do it, eying England’s cock the way he eyed an ice cream cone, flicking a quick lick at the precum beading at the tip.

“Yummy,” he said, watching England roll his eyes and blush before engulfing England’s cock in his mouth in one swift move, relishing the aborted cry England gave. His oral fixation made him a master at blowing British cock, if he did say so himself. 

He sucked hard on the head, cupping England’s balls in one hand to massage them as he kissed down the length of England’s cock, across the sharp cut of hipbone, kissing his way up the underside of England’s cock, tracing the thick vein there, tracing with his tongue the ridge between head and cock, doing his best to force those little cries out of England he’d deny making later. 

There were fine tremors running through England’s thighs, and America tightened his grip on England’s hip slightly, feeling how badly England wanted to move, to touch him, and he reveled in denying it. England was a country in control of himself and his surroundings, and giving up that control was a potent rush for both of them. (America hadn’t really understood until he gave England control just how potent a rush it was to give control to someone you trusted, it almost made him look forward to England’s revenge for his teasing. Almost.)

England closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but what America’s mouth was doing to him, but closing his eyes made the indecent sounds America was making seem louder, the sucking, the wet noises, the moans and hums that sent him further toward the edge.

Suddenly America pulled back, holding onto the base of England’s cock until his breathing evened out slightly. England glared down at him when he realized America had stopped.

America dug in his pants pocket for his army knife as England cursed him for stopping. England’s eyes widened and he jerked when he caught sight of the blade. Before he could safeword America was reassuring him without words, slicing through the tape carefully and quickly, holding up the knife and tape with a lopsided grin as England relaxed. _Just for this, babe._ Mentally, he smacked himself for forgetting – England had been through how many battles, of course he was going to tense up if he wasn’t warned about the knife. 

England gave him a quick half smile, his “I’ll forgive you _that_ one, you idiot” smile, and America smiled back as he sliced through the tape on England’s other arm.

Sliding off the chair into America’s lap, England began kissing America, almost making him forget his purpose in untaping England. 

Still, he was America, he wasn’t going to be distracted that easily! He still hadn’t finished making his Iggy feel good yet! He groped for the tape while England was distracted, remembering where it was from his aborted attempt earlier. Shifting their weight, he managed to maneuver England into kneeling in front of the chair and started taping his arms down again, moving as quickly as he dared while he distracted England, nipping and licking at the base of England’s neck where he knew his lover was sensitive, just under the collar of shirt and jacket, sucking at the spot just behind England’s ear as he squirmed. 

England jerked and tugged at the tape before looking at America over one shoulder with a raised eyebrow as soon as he realized what America was doing, a look America could translate before becoming lovers. _Seriously?_ Suddenly it melted away to pure mischief, and while America could enjoy that his lover was much less stressed than he had been earlier, that look never boded will.

America had to grit his teeth to concentrate as England squirmed and arched - it was making it very hard to concentrate, especially when England wiggled his bare ass against America’s still clothed erection _OhHolyCrap JustlikeTHAT!!_ England chuckled as America stiffened, eyes rolling back in his head. As soon as America caught his breath, he smirked and leaned down to whisper in England’s ear, and England gasped as strong hands groped his ass. 

“You keep that up and I’m gonna have to punish you, Iggy. That’s why you’re doing it, isn’t it? You like it when I do that, don’t you? You like it when I spank you ‘cuz you know I could break you and I won’t.” 

England gave him a raised eyebrow over one shoulder, silently daring him. The _smack_ as America’s hand connected with England’s ass was shockingly loud, but America still heard the pleased little noise England made as he jerked against the tape. So America spanked him again, and again, careful of his strength, until England was squirming, flushed and panting.

America cocked his head and took a good, long look at England’s ass. It was a pretty shade of soft red, England may have been tough but his skin was still soft and creamy and easily marked. America perked as he suddenly had a _brilliant_ idea. He scooted backward and bent down to kiss one reddened cheek.

England jerked, making the chair smack against the wall as he tried to squirm away. “W-what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, face as red as his backside. 

Blinking innocent eyes up at England, America rubbed his cheek against the small of England’s back, laying a quick kiss there before he replied. “Kissing it better.”

With that he went back to kissing reddened cheeks, ignoring England’s sputtered protest. England always got flustered when America did something gentle. It reminded America how little gentleness England had in his life, made him want to be even gentler for his lover. With that in the back of his mind, he ran his tongue over red skin, soothing and hot and wet, kissing and nipping at the bumps of England’s vertebrae just to hear England make an undignified noise remarkable close to a squeak, something he’d deny as soon as he was untied.

Suddenly America thought of something important and grimaced as he realized it – no lube, they couldn’t…unless…

“Hey, Iggy…”

“Bottom desk drawer,” England cut him off, still blushing. America blinked in confusion for a second…wow, Iggy was psychic! ...but moved when England rolled his eyes. 

He dug in the bottom drawer of England’s desk, fumbling a bit until he found the slim bottle, hidden at the bottom of the drawer. Grabbing the bottle, he leaned over his still flushing boyfriend. 

“You really are a kinky old man, aren’t you. Keeping lube in a desk in Buckingham Palace, and after the lecture you gave me for swearing in here before? How many times have you jacked off in here without anybody knowing?”

“Oh for…I forgot it there, that’s all! You should be grateful I...” England lost coherency for a moment as warm, lube-slick fingers wrapped around his erection and stroked just the way he liked it, clenching his hands on the chair arms tight enough to leave new dents as America stroked _just right_. 

Satisfied he’d refocused England’s attention on the matter at hand, America let go of his erection, ignoring the disappointed little noise England couldn’t quite hold back, and gripped his ass, massaging it for a moment before spreading the cheeks apart, feeling England squirm against his hands in embarrassment at the scrutiny but holding him still effortlessly.

“You have the nicest ass in the world, Iggy,” America commented, rubbing his cheek against one slightly red buttock. “And I’m gonna screw it silly, gonna fuck you ‘till I have to _carry_ you home,” he finished smugly, ignoring England’s disbelieving snort for the quick shiver and the little wiggle of that very nice ass that told him what England _really_ thought of that idea.

America started to let go, to reach for the lube and get started on that (and his cock agreed with that idea, oh very much so) when he got a sudden urge, one he had thought before he’d never want to do, but now, with England under him, taped down and legs spread, just the slightest of tremors running through that lithe body, he wanted to. It surprised him, but hey, life was all about trying new things right? And if it made England feel good…

Still a little shocked at himself for even thinking of doing it, he spread England wide and swept his tongue across England’s ass in one long sweep from balls to tailbone.


	4. Chapter 4

_“America!”_ England cried and America jerked away, sure he’d done something wrong.

“Do that again!” England demanded rather breathlessly. After a moment of rapid fire blinking on America’s part and one rather smug smirk, he did, slower this time, and England keened, spreading his legs just that little bit wider.

America kept going, following the little cues England gave him, lingering at the spots that made England cry out, licking and teasing. As the muscles in England’s back and ass twitched under his hands and exploring tongue, America circled England’s hole, tracing each wrinkle, lapping at it experimentally, reducing the normally articulate country to nonsense and wordless pleas. 

Encouraged, America pressed forward, working his tongue inside England, and he could swear he heard the metal of the chair arms creak under the grip England had on them as he shouted, mind clouded with pleasure as America dragged his tongue back out slowly, hot and wet and intense enough to make his mind short-circuit. 

America fumbled for the lube one handed, still tongue-fucking a very receptive England. He nearly dropped the bottle and had to stop to open it while England made a complaining noise he’d deny vehemently later and squirmed. America grabbed England’s hips and held him in place, reminding himself firmly that England would probably try and kill him if he used duct tape on the fancy carpet while he bit his lip and tried to think of the unsexiest things he could to calm down the raging erection that was demanding to be inside England five minutes ago already.

England _wasn’t helping_ , with his stupid sexy wiggle and stupid sexy noises! It took thinking about a combo of naked France, Russia, giraffes, a tub of chocolate pudding and a rowboat before he trusted himself to keep going and not come before England. He unzipped his pants and lost them and his boxers to try and relieve a little pressure, hissing as the fabric rubbed against him. 

“Get on with it,” England growled out between pants, and America groaned as he dropped another kiss at the base of England’s spine and worked his finger inside, England cursing between unashamed moans.

“Ah…damn it…haaaa…fucking _hell_ …hnn…’Meri!”

A second finger, and America knew he’d found the good spot when England jerked forward, chair nailing the wall as he tried to get away from the probing fingers. Somewhere in the back of America’s mind was the knowledge of how mad England was going to be if that chair left a mark on the wall, but it was fighting for attention with a squirming, gasping England, a very sensitive England, and it never stood a chance.

“Dammit…’Meri…not enough…need you inside…”

America cursed, holding back from coming by sheer willpower as he coated himself, hand on his dick almost too much before he gripped England’s hips, pushing in, bigger and thicker than fingers, and England was gasping as it stretched him, hot and hard and familiar, filling him so well he couldn’t think, could barely breathe as America set a fast, hard pace, not giving him a chance to adjust, pounding into him and England loved every moment of it, knowing how easily America could break him and trusting him not to.

The sudden intense pleasure was too much sensation after America’s prolonged teasing, and England moaned wantonly as he came. America swore quietly as England convulsed under him, the sight and sound of his England’s orgasm triggering his.

America caught himself on the edge of the chair before he slumped to the floor, both nations panting. Sliding out of England, America sprawled on the floor, brushing against the desk. Still slightly out of breath, he looked up at the large desk, the large, _sturdy_ desk, an idea forming as he reached for the knife and tape he’d dropped earlier.

 

England slipped off the chair into America’s lap as soon as the tape was cut, leaning against America’s chest as America slipped off his opened shirt and suit jacket, tossing both aside.

America scooped England into his arms, standing easily. England sighed softly and rubbed his cheek on America’s chest. Usually he didn’t like anyone trying to pick him up, but when America did it he felt…safe. It still took his breath away with how easily America could manhandle him. He gasped in shock America swung him around suddenly, holding him up one-armed while he swept the desk clear.

“Wha…America! Those papers were impor- oof!” England was cut off as he connected with the desk, sprawled across the glossy mahogany with America pressing him down into its slick surface.

“I’m not done with you yet, Iggy,” America whispered, and through his shock England heard the distinctive noise of tape being ripped. 

“Don’t you dare get tape on this desk, America,” England warned. America pouted – he’d had a nice fantasy going of taping England’s arms to the desk. Oh well, time for Plan B!

He grabbed England’s wrists in one hand, taping them together. He kept wrapping, taping England’s arms together up to the elbow. As England squirmed, testing the tape bonds almost automatically, America bent down. Grabbing England’s ankle, he tugged and laid a kiss on the bottom of England’s foot to hear him squawk before holding it in place and taping his ankle to the leg of the desk. 

England struggled almost playfully as he tugged the other ankle to the desk leg, and America had to bite back a giggle. He didn’t get to be in charge that often when the bondage came out, but England was such a bratty sub, and he looked good tied up…America made a mental resolution to do this more often. Taping England’s other ankle, he licked the back of England’s knee, feeling him jerk and hearing the muffled curse as he exploited the usually forgotten sensitive spot. 

Grabbing the back of England’s neck, he pressed England down onto the desk, feeling England wiggle as he was pinned, and slipped his fingers back inside England. He didn’t need stretched again, America just loved to hear the noises England made as he teased him.

England squirmed and cursed, struggling against America’s hand and the tape as America fingered him, those fingers twisting and brushing inside him, never enough to give anything but fleeting pleasure, deliberately avoiding that one spot he needed touched. America mouthed at England’s back and shoulders for a moment gently before yanking his fingers out and slamming inside England without warning.

“Wha…United States of America! Already?” England choked, twisting to look up at America, who gave him a crooked grin. Even for a nation, that was fast!

“Teenager, remember? Lay back and enjoy the ride, Iggy! Or should I say,” America voice dropped to a fake ‘seductive’ tone, “lay back and think of _me_?” England rolled his eyes at the bad joke, but before he could reply America was moving, and any reply he might have made was lost among his moans and gasps as America thrust into him, hard and fast and unrelenting.

England felt America’s hand close on his hip, hard enough to bruise _(Oh please let it bruise)_ and moaned. 

America gritted his teeth and fought to control his strength, England liked it when he was rough but he didn’t want to break him. The desk shuddered under them, threatening to start moving at any moment. 

Pinned to the desk, legs spread and exposed, England tried to thrust back against America, something, anything, but found quickly he couldn’t do anything _but_ ‘lay back and enjoy the ride’. America felt each squirm and aborted thrust and changed his angle slightly, seeking until England cried out. Grinning, tossing sweat soaked hair out of his eyes, squeezed England’s shoulder, feeling England collapse limply on top of the desk as he thrust, mind gone to everything but America’s hands, America moving inside him. 

More than anything else, America loved it when England went limp under him, trusting him enough to let him do whatever he pleased, to lay back and give America control. 

Still sensitive from earlier, it didn’t take long for England to succumb, and when America bit lightly at his shoulder he shuddered hard, coming quietly. A few more thrusts and America followed, bracing himself on the desk as he came.

 

The only sound in England’s office was the harsh breathing of the two nations, still caught in a pleasure haze. America wasn’t sure how long they’d lain there, panting, when he moved. He paused to admire England still sprawled over the desk before he bent to cut the tape. Suddenly getting an idea (somewhat prompted by his reawakening erection, which was begging for just one more round, and somewhat by England’s stretching and stiffening – he was thinking again, he was supposed to be too relaxed to think by now) he picked up England and sat down in the desk chair, still braced against the wall, gently shifting England to face him. 

It took a little shifting to get England in the position he wanted, but England was still loose and relaxed enough to let America move him. America threaded his fingers through soft hair as he kissed England soft and slow, letting it build and smolder in sharp contrast to his earlier rush. 

England squirmed slightly as they kissed, the hard, smooth arms of the chair under his thighs spreading his legs wide, America’s hand warm and solid at the small of his back. America’s free hand wandered over him, slow and soft. America’s mouth traveled over his neck and chest, a soft and sharp and slow buildup of heat hazing his thoughts and giving everything a soft edge. 

One handed, his other hand still balancing England, America lifted him and slowly guided himself inside, gritting his teeth as he fought to go slowly. Once he was fully seated he stopped, giving England a moment, nuzzling at England’s ever-messy hair. 

“You’re all soft and wet,” he commented. England snorted and America began moving before he could properly retort.

They moved together, all warmth and breathless whispers, sweet and gentle, lost to each other’s soft hazy pleasures. England stiffened, coming noiselessly, and America tumbled after him. 

England rested on America’s chest as they snuggled, still glowing. He shifted, the position of his arms starting to ache. America reached behind him and ripped the tape, tugging it off England’s arms and letting it fall. Sighing softly, England let America cuddle him. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed a good hard shag. Of course, America’s timing could have been better, but it was worth the lecture he’d get if anyone found out what they’d done in his office.

Vaguely he felt America run his hand along his arm, twining his fingers with England’s. “Hey England, didn’t taking that tape off hurt?” he mumbled, sounding as tired as England felt. “Guess all your body hair is two spots…ow!” he finished when England tweaked a nipple in retaliation. “…guess I deserved that.”

A few minutes later England stretched, feeling the pull in his muscles that came after a proper shag. He smiled at America’s soppy look and kissed him, standing. 

“Need to finish paperwork?”

“Need to finish paperwork.”

“Hm. Feel better?”

England smiled fondly at the sleepy question. “Much better, love.”

“Yaaaay.” America cheered tiredly, idiotic grin still in place. England found himself grinning back as he ran his hand through soft blonde hair. 

“Still going to get you back for this,” he promised. America’s grin widened.

“Yaaay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I changed the tape to Vet Wrap rather than a generic ‘tape’. Vet Wrap is a kind of bandaging tape that only sticks to itself and not to skin, and it’s a bit elastic, so a bit better for bondage than, say, duct tape, which is a Very Bad Idea in bondage. This has been your bondage PSA for the day. :)
> 
> Also, I know America calling England “Iggy” annoys some people since it’s based off the Japanese word for England. I use it since this is based in modern times and America has more than likely been hanging out with Japan, and would have heard Japan use his name for England and would make the nickname both to annoy England and as a sort of endearment.


End file.
